


Electric Sheep

by rabidchild67



Category: Magic Mike (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ken really is a doll, a Pleasure-Tron 3000, programmed for the delighted usage of the club's clientele and employees. One person doesn’t see it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electric Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [this prompt](http://rabidchild67.livejournal.com/127669.html?thread=2342325#t2342325) by my pal elrhiarhodan on the Magic Mike Kink Meme.

Ken blinked as the lights in his room backstage came on. Someone had come, someone for him, there was no mistaking it, given the time. Someone came almost every night, after the show. With a faint whir of servos, he got to a seated position and looked around towards the door.

“Hello, Dallas,” he said to his owner with a smile. “It is pleasing to see you tonight.” Ken’s at-rest subroutine canceled itself as he entered Full Service mode.

“Is it, Ken?” Dallas replied. 

Dallas’s eyes were dark and hooded, his eyebrows drawn together, which meant he had had a bad night. Ken knew how to help. He knew what Dallas would want, what he needed. He moved with programmed smoothness to stand in front of Dallas, and without preamble got to his knees. He looked up at Dallas and cocked his head, waiting. Dallas undid his own belt buckle, then the fly, and pulled out his thick, purple dick, already hard and glistening. He thrust his hips forward, so that the head was pushing at Ken’s lips. Ken regarded it thoughtfully, then looked up at Dallas. 

“Do you need me to cry?”

“Not tonight, baby,” Dallas whispered.

Ken took Dallas’s cock into his smooth, cool grip and opened his mouth to take in the head, the moisture sensors in his mouth providing additional lubrication as he added just the right amount of suction, the right amount for Dallas. 

Ken knew the preferences of all of the dancers at Xquisite, of the bartenders and wait staff too, it was his function. He knew that Mike liked a quick handjob to warm up before he went on, and that Tito preferred if Ken took him from behind and let him call him “Marco.” He knew just how to flirt with the female customers, the ones who spent a lot in the club, and he knew just when to stop, when they were on the edge and desperate to come, when Dallas would then remind them of the price of this special service with Ken, and take their credit card numbers. 

And he knew that when Dallas had a hard day, like he did today with the bankers and the investors, he needed to “blow off some steam.” Blowing off steam tonight meant fucking Ken’s mouth, hard, and the pressing of the head of his penis against the back of Ken’s throat automatically triggered the fluids in his lacrimal subsystem, and clear fluid began to pool beneath the individual sable hairs that made up Ken’s eyelashes. 

“You’re so beautiful like that,” Dallas murmured, fisting his hair and pulling his face closer. The deeper penetration triggered the Gag-o-Flex in Ken’s throat and he did not suppress the choking sound he was programmed to deliver when that happened, because he knew that Dallas enjoyed hearing it.

He peered up at Dallas, who was looking directly at him, but his eyes had that faraway look that told Ken he was not really here. Ken blinked, and Dallas’s eyes focused on him, and his face darkened. “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice gruff and too deep, and Ken backed away and got on his hands and knees. 

Ken considered his options as Dallas positioned himself behind him. He was self-lubricating, of course, but sometimes Dallas liked to take him dry, and sometimes he liked to pretend Ken was real and prep him first. On hard nights, like tonight, Ken found it hard to predict Dallas’s preferences, and while it caused a momentary consternation, Ken knew he’d get it right. He was a Pleasure-Tron 3000, he was guaranteed to please.

The head of Dallas’s dick pressed, hard and insistent, at the pink entrance at Ken’s rear. The diaphragm within Ken’s thoracic area flexed, making him gasp as his puckered hole resisted the intrusion. Dallas leaned over Ken’s back and pulled his hips closer to him, his grip hard enough to bruise a real man, and Ken’s body eased slightly to accommodate him as he thrust further inside. Ken turned his head to ask a question, and Dallas caught his mouth in a kiss, his lips mashing against Ken’s with punishing force. When he pulled away, he pumped his hips against Ken, hard. Ken blinked and asked him, curious, “Do you want me to bleed for you?”

Dallas paused in his movements. His voice shook when he spoke. “No. No, not today Ken. Just smile for me, buddy, OK?” 

“All right.”

It took just three more thrusts for Dallas to orgasm, and when he was done, he straightened up and patted Ken fondly on his buttocks. “Thank you,” he said, not able to meet Ken’s eyes, and then he left.

Ken rose and stood, naked, in the middle of his room in the back of the club, amidst the cases of liquor stacked five-high and the empty kegs; the results of his latest encounter ran down his right thigh. He was about to go to the bathroom to clean himself up – there were special antiseptic products there he used to cleanse his systems, but he was intercepted by another person, one whose imposing bulk blocked his route to the bathroom. 

“Hi, Richie,” Ken said with a smile. Ken liked Richie; he was pleasant and smiled a lot and asked Ken for advice on the kind of car he should buy.

“Hi, Ken,” Richie said, but he did not smile back. Instead, he handed Ken a warm, wet washcloth and gestured for Ken to sit. Ken did, his legs spread wide as he reached down with the cloth, but it was awkward and soon Richie offered to help him.

“Do they always leave you like this? Alone? Dirty?” Richie asked. He made Ken turn over onto his belly so that he could wipe him down; his touch was warm and gentle, careful.

“Not always. Roger the bartender just likes me to play catch with him. Tito sometimes cries for his ex-boyfriend, and so I hold him until he falls asleep.”

“Do you ever just do what _you_ want to do?”

“I do not understand.”

“Don’t you have anything you prefer to do? Any hobbies? Interests?” Richie finished cleaning Ken’s back and had him sit down. He combed his fingers through Ken’s hair, arranging it off his forehead so that it was more like his usual style.

Ken cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “I run a self-diagnostic on Tuesday nights, and that is very calming. What about you?” 

“I have interests.”

“You never use me, Richie, not like everyone else. Am I not pleasing? Do you not like me?” 

Richie’s dark brown eyes met the ice blue of Ken’s and then looked away. Ken’s mood receptors told him that Richie was sad, but he could not discern why that might be. 

“I like you too much, Ken,” Richie said at length, his voice at a low pitch. “I will never, ever use you.” He laid a hand on Ken’s head and ruffled his hair gently, then ran a finger along his stubbled jawline. “Now, where are your clothes?”

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
